Regionals
by estrafalaria103
Summary: When Blaine convinces the Warblers to be a little edgy, he and Kurt have to deal with the potential fall-out. Plus, Pavarotti hasn't been acting like himself, Kurt has a solo, and, oh yeah, New Directions will be there with their original songs.
1. Judges

**A/N: Um. . .minimal, minimal spoilers. Mostly just the songs, and then my maniacal, Klaine fangirl version of how they should come out. I. . .don't know what's going on in this prologue. It are crack. Following is better written and just. . .better. I think the Warblers make me crack.**

Kurt wasn't entirely thrilled to be at Warbler's rehearsal. Regionals was in less than a week, and the council had decided that twice daily practices were the way to go. Of course, none of the Dalton teachers cared about the additional stress. It was the same crushing load of homework as ever, and on top of it, the stress of a cappella. He was pretty sure his throat was worn sore. Poor Blaine had been downing water and lemon like it was his job. Even so, he was sounding progressively sexier every day.

Wait. . .not sexier. Hoarser. That was what he meant. Hoarser.

The banging of a gavel (Kurt's new least favorite song, overcoming even the incessant beeping of his alarm clock and Finn's snoring) brought his thoughts back to the present. Even Wes, David, and Thad were showing signs of stress. David's face was covered in stubble, Wes had dark circles under his eyes, and Thad's tie was knotted twice.

"Attention, Warblers," Wes said. "We have both good news, and bad news. Thad, would you care to share the good news?"

"Certainly, good sir," Thad said pompously, before clearing his throat. "We have received the names of the judges for Regionals."

A smattering of half-hearted clapping travelled throughout the room. Kurt didn't have the energy to lift his hands. Glancing to his right, he saw Blaine's eyes at half-mast. The other boys' chin drifted dangerously close to his chest.

"Excellent, Thad," Wes said, and banged the gavel again. Kurt didn't know why. For good measure? It seemed to work, however, as Blaine jerked back awake, glancing around surreptitiously to see if anyone had noticed his near disastrous nap. Kurt studiously avoided looking at him. "David, the bad news, if you will."

"The judges are," David paused dramatically, "Rod Remmington. . .Sr. Mary Constance. . .and Representative Tammy Jean Albertson."

Kurt gasped, and lifted one hand to cover his mouth. Wes hadn't been kidding. That was bad news.

"Wait. . ." Jeff raised his hand, looking thoroughly confused. "How is that a disaster?"

"Thad," Wes said. Thad nodded his head. He stood up and adjusted his tie, appearing confused when he encountered the second knot.

"Firstly. . .Sister Mary Constance is a nun. Secondly, Representative Tammy Jean Albertson is only the most conservative woman in the state. She's against gay marriage, premarital sex, pop music, puppies cuddling with kitties. . ."

"I think we get the point," Wes interrupted. He turned to address Jeff. "What Thad is saying is that _Bills, Bills, Bills_ is out. They'll crucify us. They'll call us a gay choir. It will be worse than the hippie incident of 1972, when three Warblers were"

"Wait." Blaine had apparently woken up completely, since he was now standing up. He lifted one hand, probably to protest, but Nick, who had been his lackey for the last two days, hastily placed a glass of water with lemon in his hand. Blaine seemed surprised, but took a sip anyway. "You're saying we're going to change our set list because some of the judges are homophobic?"

"It would be prudent, yes," Wes said.

Which Kurt got, he really did. They had to play to the audience that they were given.

"No," Blaine shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Too much lemon?" Nick asked nervously.

"Look," Blaine said, putting the glass of water down. Nick looked utterly devastated. Kurt sighed and patted the other boy on his shoulder. Blaine set his shoulders back, in what Kurt had classified the "Dapper Blaine Speech-Giving Pose."

"The Warblers have never let other people define who we are," Blaine said. "When people said we couldn't cover songs originally performed by women, we defied them with the greatness that is Katy Perry. When people said that we couldn't dance, David learned how to breakdance. When we were told that we aren't sexy, we got phone numbers from a bunch of private school girls. We can't change who we are just because someone doesn't like us."

"Actually," Wes said, "when that someone decides whether we go to Nationals or not, we can. And we will."

"Fine," Blaine said, crossing his arms across his chest. "Maybe you should find another soloist then, because we wouldn't want to risk a _gay_ guy singing in front of them."  
"Blaine. . ." Wes sighed, and banged his gavel. Kurt jumped a little in his seat.

"That's not what we're saying," David protested.

"Actually, comrade, that is precisely what we're saying," Thad piped up. "Perhaps we should have someone a little less. . .flaming. . .sing lead. Perhaps junior member Kurt Hummel?"

There was silence in the choir room for a full two minutes.

"Oh. . .my. . .God. . ." Wes put his head between his hands. "We are so doomed."

"What?" Thad looked around, apparently confused. "It was a joke. I was making a joke!"

"The last time Thad made a joke was the Disastrous Egging of 2009," Wes mumbled. David pat him on the back. Kurt just sighed. He wondered how New Directions was handling the stress. Finn had probably forgotten, actually. There was probably some kind of baby drama, or lesbian antics that had them more occupied. In fact, Kurt would have put money that New Directions wasn't the least bit freaked out about Regionals. He kind of wished he were there now.

"Okay, fine," Wes said, sitting back up. He seemed a little more composed now.

"Over under," Blaine hissed, "on the gavel. I put it at seven."

"Over," Kurt whispered back. Wes banged it again.

"We'll keep _Bills, Bills, Bills_, and pray that we don't all get sent to a scared straight program. Now then, moving on. . ."

"No," Blaine interrupted, standing up again. "That's not enough. We have to make a point. It's go big or go home, right?"

"Blaine, we are absolutely _not_ singing _It's Raining Men_," David said. "I put my foot down. The judges may think we're a gay choir, but I want to remind you that most of us are straight."

Blaine raised one eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure about that. . ." he muttered under his breath. "Anyway, that's not my point. I think we should do a duet."

Kurt bit his lip and waiting for pandemonium. Even he knew that the Warblers had never done a duet before. After all, there were virtually no duets between two men, and he himself knew of none if songs between gay men were eliminated. It simply wasn't done in an all-male a capella group. But as he glanced around, there was no chaos. Granted, most of the members were staring around dazedly, perhaps not even conscious, and the other half were circumspectly attempting to do their homework. Still, he expected more from the council. But Wes looked thoughtful, as did David. Thad, meanwhile, was just playing with his tie.

"Okay," Wes said finally. "We can do that. It's edgy. You and Kurt work out an arrangement, and we'll begin practicing tomorrow. Warblers dismissed."

Kurt let out a long breath. Thank goodness. . .rehearsal had gotten out a full hour early. That meant another hour before the library closed. Maybe he could get the essay on _Jane Eyre_ finished tonight after all. . .

"Wait a second."

Kurt stopped moving halfway through the door. Most of the boys managed to dodge around him, but Blaine crashed full-on into his back.

"Kurt? Are you okay?"

Normally Kurt would have been _more_ than okay with the brush of Blaine's breath against the back of his neck. His mind, however, which had been rendered virtual mush from the lack of sleep, was trying to work itself around something.

"Did I just get a solo?"

"Yeah. . .you're kind of blocking traffic. . ."

Kurt turned around. His eyes must have been huge, and his breath was coming in quick little pants. It was wholly possible that he was going to hyperventilate. He grabbed Blaine by the shoulders, and shook the shorter boy.

"I'm singing a solo at Regionals?" Blaine just nodded, looking confused. Kurt balled his hands into fists and thrust them toward the ceiling.

"I freaking love the Warblers!"


	2. Glitter

Blaine finished knotting his tie, and glanced at himself once more in the mirror. He still had about ten minutes before he'd have to leave and pick up Kurt, and he wasn't entirely sure what was left to do. His mother had ironed all of his clothing – unexpected, and almost definitely done only because his father was on a business trip. Still, it had meant that getting ready had been infinitely easier than expected.

His phone rang. He grabbed and pulled it to his ear, not even bothering to look at who was calling. "Hey," he said.

"H-hi."

He recognized the stuttering voice at once. Maybe because it was distinctive, and maybe because there had only been one person who had ever called him sounding so terrified.

"Kurt, what's wrong?" He didn't wait for an answer, just grabbed his keys and wallet and practically ran out the door.

"Nothing," Kurt responded his voice low and tremulous – not at all the fabulous tenor that Blaine was used to. "I just called to say that you don't have to pick me up for Regionals. I'm not feeling very well. I think I probably shouldn't go."

Blaine was in the car, turning the ignition, by this point. He shifted his phone so it was nestled between his shoulder and ear as he pulled out of the driveway. "Kurt, don't be ridiculous," he said. "We have a duet together. Just think how stupid I'll look, singing to myself."

"You could never look stupid," Kurt said, and Blaine felt a brief moment of triumph, because he could almost hear the smile in that sentence. "But seriously, I don't feel great, and my voice will be totally off. Just have Nick sing it."

"Nick doesn't even know what a falsetto is. I'm pretty sure he thinks it's some kind of clothing."

"Luke, then."

"Luke is so flaming he would set the judges on fire. Kurt, seriously, tell me what's wrong."

"It's just. . ." a long pause. A car ahead slammed through a stop sign, causing Blaine to step on the brakes, and honk the horn. "Was that a car horn? Oh, Gaga, you're on your way, aren't you?"

"Halfway there," Blaine said smugly. Provided no more asinine drivers sailed by him with a deathwish, that was.

"You're going to hate me," Kurt moaned. "And the Warblers are going to hate me, and they're going to throw me out of school, and, oh God, Wes is going to attack me with his gavel. . ."

"Wes would never dare to bloody his gavel," Blaine said. "Please, Kurt, you're kind of freaking me out here, would you just tell me what's wrong?"

A long silence. "You'll see soon enough."

And then Kurt hung up, and that _really_ freaked Blaine out. Usually they did their own twisted version of "you hang up – no, you hang up". And when they didn't do that, it was because Blaine had to go, because _Blaine_ was super busy, not Kurt. Kurt _never_ hung up first.

So he might have stepped on the gas. Just a little. And maybe he bounded up the stairs like a rabid puppy. Maybe. And he might have been a little more worried when Finn opened the door instead of Kurt. Though Finn, at least, looked ready for REgionals, all decked out in black. Depressing, but, hey to each their own.

"Hey, Blaine," the other boy said happily. "Here to see Kurt?"

"Yeah. Do you know what's wrong?"

Finn bit his lip, and looked guiltily over his shoulder. "Yeah, uh. . .it's sorta my fault, actually. But don't tell Kurt because, you know, he's kind of scary when he's mad."

"Uh-huh," Blaine just shook his head and pushed his way into the house. And maybe he wouldn't normally be so pushy, but they were two hours away from Regionals, and Wes would seriously pound a gavel through his skull if the song that he'd insisted Kurt sing didn't go through. Plus, he wasn't sure he remembered all the words to _Bills, Bills, Bills_. So, yeah, he kind of really needed Kurt to be all right.

He found the other boy in his bedroom, curled up on his massive bed. Curled around. . .wait. . .was that a birdcage? Blaine knocked once on the door before just walking in.

"Kurt? It's me. . .can you tell me what's wrong?"

He could feel Finn still just hovering by the door, but ignored him. Kurt sniffled a little, before sitting up.

"It's Pavarotti," he said thickly. "I killed him."

"You. . .I. . .what?"

Blaine walked forward, and peered through the cage. Sure enough, there was the little canary, belly up on the bottom of the cage. Blaine stuck one finger in between the bars, and poked at the bird gently. It flopped over to the side.

"Gross," he said.

"Definitely dead," Finn said helpfully. "Can we leave for Regionals now?"

"I don't understand. . ." Kurt sighed. "I left him with plenty of food and water. Finn even agreed to look in on him while I was gone at the sleepover."

"Sleepover?" Blaine lifted one eyebrow. He stared into the cage. In the food bowl was. . .wait, no, it couldn't possibly be. . .

"With the girls," Kurt explained. "To make sure there were no bad feelings going into Regionals. We just. . .Blaine, what are you looking at?"

"I. . .um. . ." it couldn't be, right? "Kurt. . .is that _glitter_?"

"Glitter?" Kurt frowned and stared into the cage. "What. . .Finn?"

"What?" Blaine glanced up and saw the taller boy slowly edging away. "I just. . .you said you were taking him with you to Regionals."

"Yes. . ." Kurt was standing up now, and Blaine totally saw why Finn was kind of scared of him. "And?"

"And. . .remember the wedding?"

"Yes, Finn, I remember," Kurt said tersely. Blaine glanced at his watch. They still had plenty of time. So he sat down on his bed and crossed his legs. He kind of wished he had some popcorn.

"Well, uh. . ." Finn scratched his head and smiled, kind of bashfully. "I remember you wanted doves. . .and I thought it would be messy. . .so you said. . .you said. . .that we could feed them glitter."

Blaine couldn't help it. He laughed. Said laugh disappeared immediately, however, when Kurt glared at him. He shut up. He shut up fast.

"Finn," Kurt said, his voice practically spitting venom. "That was a joke. A _joke_, you big Neanderthal. Now please. Tell me you did not feed my bird glitter!"

"Heh. . .heh. . ."

And with that, Finn turned and ran. Literally ran, leaving Kurt just standing there, his hands fisted at his side. Blaine walked over to him, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Kurt. You never even liked that bird."

"Pavarotti was my voice," Kurt said, staring at the ground. "You told me that. Pavarotti _was_ me. And now he's dead."

"Kurt, I think you're taking the metaphor a little too far."

"No," Kurt shook his head. "I'm not. I'm that bird, and Dalton's a cage, and guess what, Blaine. Pavarotti didn't come to like his cage, he _died_ in it."

"Kurt, he died from glitter," Blaine said, trying to sound reasonable. And really, he was trying to ignore the strange, twisting sensation in his stomach. What had he eaten for breakfast? "There's no glitter at Dalton."

"Yes, there is," Kurt said fiercely, staring him straight in the eye. "There is beautiful, fantastic, _fabulous_ glitter. But I should learn from Pavarotti. No matter how beautiful the glitter is, or how much I want it, it's just glitter, and it won't ever want me back. And eventually, it will kill me."

Blaine really had no idea what the other boy was talking about, but he was a little unnerved by the way Kurt was staring him straight in the eye. So he awkwardly took the other boy by the wrist, and began tugging him out the door.

"Come on," he said. "We can talk on the way, but we definitely need to be headed toward Regionals."

"Yeah, okay," Kurt said. He glanced back once more into the bedroom before they left. "But Wes is going to _kill_ me."

Normally, Blaine would be inclined to agree, but Wes had a certain fondness for Kurt – all of the Warblers did. Objectively, it was proveable. After all, with only three months in the club, he was getting a solo at Regionals. That was unheard of. It was insane. It was. . .

It was Kurt Hummel. Blaine smiled wryly as he held the door open for the diva. If this morning was any indication of Regionals, it was going to be a crazy ride.


	3. Loser

**A/N: Warning. . .story is not turning out how I expected. Le sigh. . .curse you Klaine, and your fickleness! Anyway. . .what. . .two updates in one day? What craziness! Yes. . .it's the end of spring break, and I'm feeling writerly. Also, I want to get back to Building Bridges, which has been left alone for far too long. . .sorry about that. **

Kurt couldn't decide how he felt. On the one hand, he was extremely peeved at Finn for killing his bird. On the other hand, he was thrilled that Blaine had cared enough to come to his house and literally drag him. On the other hand (or maybe on the foot?) Blaine had seemed mostly concerned about the fate of the Warblers, and the duet. On the other hand. . .

Ridiculous. He was doing it again – overanalyzing and overthinking everything. Blaine was his friend. His best friend, maybe (not that he would _ever_ tell Mercedes that). And best friends looked out for each other.

They pulled into the parking lot just minutes after Wes and David. Kurt could tell it was their car because (well, because it was a freaking Mercedes Benz, and only Dalton students would drive those) painted across the back window were the words "Regionals or Bust."

"Aren't those signs usually painted for road trips?" Blaine asked, in confusion.

"Well, they're boarders," Kurt reasoned. "Five minutes out of Dalton is a road trip for those boys."

Blaine smiled at him, chuckled, and turned off the car. "All right, let's go, new kid."

Kurt followed the other boy in to Carmel's auditorium. He tensed up when they walked in, certain that Jesse St. James was lurking behind a corner, or that the members of Vocal Adrenaline were hiding with eggs clenched in their fists. Until he remembered that the glee club wouldn't be in the school, but would be at their own Regionals competition that day. Thank goodness for small favors.

Wes and David were returning from checking the team in. Kurt and Blaine walked over to them.

"We get the order?" Blaine asked. Wes nodded.

"New Directions is up first, then us, and Aural Intensity is last."

Kurt's face fell. Second. Definitely not the best place to be, and if Aural Intensity played to the judges the way they had last year, even worse. He took a deep breath.

"Hey, it'll be fine," David said encouragingly. "We're going to blow those judges socks off no matter when we perform."

Wes didn't seem as convinced. He was just staring morosely at the program, still clenched tightly in his fist. "Maybe we should do something more standard. _Silly Love Songs_."

"Absolutely not," Blaine said firmly. "We're being ourselves. Now, Kurt, do you want to find your friends and wish them good luck?"

Kurt's face broke into a wide smile, and instantly his worries flew away. He'd assumed that, going second, he wouldn't be able to see his old friends until after the performance, but Blaine had suggested it, and Blaine always got what he wanted. Sure enough, Wes looked disgruntled, but David just pat him on the back and waved to Thad, leaving the two of them free to slink off.

It wasn't hard to find New Directions. They just followed the sound of Mercedes warming up, Mike tap dancing, and Lauren loudly declaring her love for Mallomars. Blaine was giggling a little as they wandered into the green room, but Kurt frankly didn't care.

Rachel was the first one he saw. She was standing in the middle of the room, widely gesticulating and reminding everyone not to "overuse your vocal chords" but to "reach deep within yourself and find your inner song." Nobody really seemed to be listening, however. Mercedes was still belting out her own song, while Santana, Sam, Artie, and Brittany seemed to be trying to outsnog each other. Blaine snorted.

"Hey, guys!" Kurt said chipperly, waving his arm. "Just wanted to wish you all luck."

"Kurt!"

It was an overwhelming cry, as even the couples detached faces long enough to come and join the mass hug. Kurt knew that his smile was so wide it must be nearly cracking his face in two, but he didn't care. This was his family, and he had to admit that as ecstatic as he was to be singing a solo with the Warblers, he'd rather be singing backup to Rachel and Mercedes supreme vocals (though he would never, _ever_ enjoy being second fiddle to Finn Hudson, of all people).

And it was kind of nice, the way that after greeting him, the girls swarmed over to give Blaine hugs, too. Kurt kind of felt like a proud father, kind of felt like going "yes, he's mine, and he's _fabulous_, and don't you all love him?" But he didn't because. . .well.

"Normally I would be worried about the competition stealing our secrets so soon before competition, but today I am pleased to see both you and Blaine Warbler." Rachel said. She put her hands on her hips, and quirked one eyebrow toward her. Kurt knew what she wanted him to ask. And he wasn't about to give her that satisfaction. Blaine, evidently, was.

"And why aren't you worried today, Rachel?"

"Because," Rachel said with a proud smile. "Today we're singing original songs, and there's no way you can steal _that_ away from us."

Kurt was blown away. He remembered Rachel talking about writing songs, and her sheer joy at being blown off by Blaine (second only to his supreme joy), but he'd never though she'd go through with it.

"Rachel, that's amazing!" Blaine said, sounding sincere. Kurt glanced over. He knew Blaine well enough by now to see beneath the layers. And, sure enough, beneath the dapper face and charming smile, there was a small iota of panic. He reached out a gently bumped the other boys shoulder. A little awkward, but totally worth it for the smile he got in return.

"I suggested we use _my _ original song," Mercedes said.

"They were totally brill lyrics, sister," Artie agreed. Mercedes bowed.

"I'd love to hear" Blaine didn't even get to finish. Kurt probably should have warned him about that. Mercedes just spread her arms out, pushing everyone else behind her.

"_Mama said get yo' ass outta bed_

_ I said Hello to the no!_

_ Said wash you gramma's nasty hair_

_ I said hello to the no!_

_They tried to take away my tots_

_ I said hell to the no!"_

"Sing it, bitch!" Santana yelled. Kurt bit the inside of his lip, trying desperately not to giggle.

"That's really great," Blaine said. "We'll have to hear the whole thing someday."

"No probs," Mercedes said with a broad grin, and opened her mouth to wail some more.

"Not now, 'Cedes," Kurt interrupted. "We need to get back to the other Warblers before they begin panicking."

Kurt turned to follow Blaine out of the green room, a massive smile still plastered across his face. Before he could make it out, however, Rachel grabbed his arm.

"Hey," she said. "Listen to the second song. You. . .you're kind of the inspiration."

"Thanks," Kurt said. He was touched, but also more than a little scared. He'd heard Finn's description of _My Headband_ and wasn't entirely sure he wanted to be the inspiration for a Rachel Berry song.

"We really miss you, Kurt," Rachel said, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such sincerity in the diva's eyes. "And I know you like Dalton but just. . .we're always here, okay?"

"Thanks," Kurt said. "And hey. . .break a leg up there!"

"Oh, baby, we gonna break two!" Mercedes sassed.

The Warblers, meanwhile, were very seriously practicing their patented step-and-snap dance moves. Kurt just shook his head. He loved both of his glee clubs, he really did, but watching Luke popping out a hip despite Thad's admonishments. . .and all the uniforms. . .it was just too much. He giggled.

"Junior Member Kurt Hummel!" Wes yelled. "Is there something you would like to share with the group?"

"No, nothing," Kurt said, although the image of a sad, little yellow body did briefly flit through his head. He and Blaine had discussed it on the ride up, however, and agreed not to tell the other Warblers until after they'd performed. No need for some superstitious singer to get freaked out over the death of a canary.

What they hadn't discussed was another thought that had been flitting through Kurt's mind. It wasn't a new thought. . .had pretty much been there since his second week at Dalton, but Pavarotti's death had just brought it to the forefront again. Dalton was a great school, and he would get a first rate education there. . .but it would be trying on his dad's finances, and it wasn't like he wanted to go to an Ivy school anyway. And he was tired of the uniforms, and missed having girls around, and he thought that maybe, just maybe, he finally understood Blaine's advice about courage.

He'd had bravado, way back when, but he hadn't had courage. Looking around at the polished boys trying desperately to beatbox and step-shuffle, he thought that maybe Dalton had already given him everything it had to offer.

"Please, Blaine, please."

Kurt didn't think he'd ever heard Wes so desperate, but Blaine was just shaking his head.

"Wes, we've rehearsed the songs a thousand times. I'm not going to strain my voice just to please your masochistic tendencies."

"What if we're out of tune?" Wes pleaded. "What if we're off beat?"

Above them, the loudspeaker crackled indicating the start of the competition. David, showing off the acrobatic skills he could only have acquired at Dalton, flipped it off immediately, sparing the Warblers the imminent threat of hearing their competition. Kurt sighed. He'd really been hoping to hear New Directions, but he could understand the Warblers desire to avoid it. After all, his old glee club had done the same thing.

"Is it starting?" Blaine asked. Kurt glanced at him. Blaine's face lit up into a broad smile, as he grab Kurt's heart. Stupid familiar heart flip-flop. "Come on. I think we all need to hear these original songs. Especially if they're anything like Mercedes. They took away my tots. . .genius!"

Kurt let himself be towed back through the green room. He ignored the scandalized looks on the faces of the other Warblers. Blaine's hand was so warm. . .and calloused. . .and. . .

Glitter, Kurt reminded himself firmly. Just glitter.

They found themselves a nice, comfortable spot backstage, where they could peer out between the curtains. A shuffling sound beside Blaine and, surprisingly, Thad of all people was there.

"Out from beneath Wes' thumb?" Blaine whispered. Thad frowned.

"My good sir, I am merely sizing up the competition," he said. "This is a mere reconnaissance mission."

"Uh-huh," Kurt said with a smirk.

And then Rachel began to sing. Kurt's mouth dropped open. He could feel, more than see, Blaine and Thad exchanging shocked looks. Because this song was no _My Headband_, and it was no _Hell to the No_. It was a real song.

And sure, Kurt was willing to admit that it was schmaltzy, and poppy, but Rachel was singing it as passionately as she sang everything else. Or maybe they were just shocked at the combat boots with the teal dress. Seriously, who was the costume designer?

And then Rachel raised her hand, and the rest of New Directions began walking in from the back of the auditorium (of course). Finn looked positively gobsmacked, and Kurt would have cut a bitch to find out what had gone down in the green room after they'd left.

"Kurt. . ." Blaine whispered. "This is good. They're really _good._"

Kurt didn't say anything, just smiled and began tapping his foot along. How many times would it take for Rachel to get it right? He had the feeling she'd done it right there. He tried to see the judges faces, but couldn't through the darkness of the auditorium.

And then the song was over, and Rachel was still in the middle of the stage, fists tightly clenched at her side, face raised defiantly toward the ceiling, and tears coursing down her cheeks. She looked completely beautiful for that moment. Maybe, he thought, just maybe he'd go a little straight for Rachel Berry. He glanced at Blaine. Okay, maybe he wasn't upset about the bisexual comment anymore.

But then the music started up again, and Rachel's words from earlier flew through his head.

And. . .really? Really? Rachel dedicated a song about being a _loser_ to him? Screw that earlier thought, he was still 100% gay.

But then Finn stepped forward and started to sing.

"_Push me up against the locker_

_ And hey, all I do is shake it off"_

He started shaking. Trembling, really, but it was enough the Blaine noticed, and shifted over to clutch his hand. Kurt twined his fingers through the other boys. Because they were singing about him. . .Rachel had written a song about how _fabulous_ he was.

_ "I'll get you back when I'm your boss_

_ I'm not thinkin' 'bout you haters_

_ 'Cause hey, I could be a superstar_

_ I'll see you when you wash my car._"

He choked back a sob. The Warblers might have given him a solo, but New Directions had written him a song. He was standing in the backstage, next to the most beautiful boy he'd ever met, and he realized that he didn't care anymore.

He was Kurt Hummel, and he was absolutely fabulous. It was time to go back home, where people actually understood and appreciated it.

**A/N: Next chapter. . .obscene amounts of Klaine. Seriously. It scares me. . .Tuesday's episode is going to be such a let-down after this, though I look forward to some Determined!Quinn.**


	4. Candles

**A/N: Ahhh. . .the sheer amounts of Klaine are hurting my brain. . .usually not this fluffy. Glugh.**

Something had happened to Kurt during the last song by the New Directions. Blaine had been worried at first, when Kurt had been shaking, trembling, tears glimmering in his eyes. So he'd gone, and taken the other boys hand, offering what little comfort he could. But then, halfway through, something had changed. Kurt's jaw had tightened, and he'd dropped his hand, fingers disentangling from Blaine's. There were no tears in his eyes now, just a high flush on his cheeks.

"Ready for your first ever solo?" Blaine asked. Kurt didn't look at him, just bit his cheek and wrung out his hands a little.

"Has anyone ever literally died on stage?" he asked.

Blaine chuckled. "Not to my knowledge, no."

Kurt turned to him then, a wide smile across his face. "Then I think we're perfectly ready."

The rest of the Warblers came out at that moment, as though they'd been summoned. It only took a few moments to get into position behind the lowered curtain. Blaine was so fixated one finding his correct spot, and making sure that Luke was _not_ draped hopelessly over Nick, that he didn't even notice the members of New Directions filing past.

And then the curtain was going up, and two spotlights were coming up. He glanced across at Kurt, his eyes sparkling. Performing always woke him up, made him feel more alive. And, if he were being perfectly honest, he was more excited about this performance than most. Because this song said something, and this duet said something and

His thought process was interrupted as the Warblers behind him began their backup. And then Kurt stepped forward, just the tiniest half step, his eyes still trained on Blaine.

"_The power lines went out_

_ and I am all alone_

_ But I don't really care at all, not answering my phone_."

So Blaine took his step forward, and began singing his lines, but somewhere, during the second verse or so, something in Kurt's gaze shifted, grew harder. . .

"_And all the games you played_

_ The promises you made_

_ Couldn't finish what you started, only darkness still remains."_

They took a step toward one another, the choreography that they practiced all week coming naturally. Were the other Warblers still singing? Blaine wasn't sure. Was there even an audience?

"_Lost sight, couldn't see_

_ When it was you and me."_

But then Kurt wrenched his gaze and away, and sang the next part to the audience. _To the audience._ That was not part of the choreography, that was not what was planned. Blaine couldn't break out, couldn't figure out what Kurt wanted to do. So, as Kurt sang out the love song to some unknown soul in the audience, Blaine continued just to sing to Kurt.

"_Blow the candle out_

_ Looks like a solo tonight_

_ I'm beginning to see the light_

_ Blow the candles out_

_ Looks like a solo tonight_

_ But I think I'll be all right_."

And then Blaine saw who Kurt was singing to. New Directions had filed in, and was seated to the left center of the auditorium. He could see Rachel, grinning wider than he'd ever seen her before, one hand firmly grasping Finn's. He saw Mercedes, bubbling over with joy, and the asian Couple, and the stripper and. . .

And Kurt was singing to them. Or maybe singing to himself, or to his mom, or to. . .to somebody. But he wasn't singing to Blaine.

"_Been black and blue before"_

Blaine lost it for a moment. Just stopped singing. Because Kurt had been black and blue, and he had been, but Kurt was so _clearly_ over it now. He'd always known that Kurt was stronger than he was, braver, but in that moment. . .Blaine took a deep breath, and tried to steady himself. Thank God it was a duet, and that Kurt was strong enough to carry it on himself.

_ There's not need to explain_

_ I am not the jaded kind_

_ Playback's such a waste_"

Kurt obviously noticed, though. How could he not, when his duet partner just stopped. He turned to look at Blaine, who took a deep breath and started singing again, but still lighter, still barely there. He was beginning to understand the lyrics for the song, maybe just a little, and it suddenly wasn't performing anymore. It was being vulnerable, and that was _terrifying_, because he wasn't even sure what walls he was letting down, or why.

_"You're invisible, invisible to me_

_ My wish is coming true erase the memory of your face_"

And then back to the chorus, which was good, because this was so rehearsed, and Kurt was doing the choreography again. So Blaine was back on track, because the vulnerability was disappearing a little, and it was back to being another performance.

They both stepped toward one another for the bridge. Kurt's eyes were so blue.

"_One day, you will wake up_

_ With nothing but you're sorrys_"

Blaine kind of felt like that had already happened. After Jeremiah. After Rachel. After Burt. Five months ago he would have been too afraid of any of that. . .he would never have hit on a guy (or a girl). He had never talked about his dad. He'd never had any courage at all. So, yeah, he totally got the end of the song, and he was overcome, once again, by sheer gratitude for his best friend.

And that was why he belted out those next lines with more passion and force than he'd ever song anything before. Because he really cared about Kurt, and Kurt was his best friend, and he kind of felt like he was losing him.

_"And someday, you will get back_

_ Everything you gave me_"

And then it was harmonizing on the end, and Blaine knew he sold it, completely destroyed it. He was pretty sure, actually, that he could hear crying from the crowd. Though. . .that might have been the nun.

All of the lights disappeared, except the spotlight on him. He grabbed Kurt's hand, kept him in the light. _Candles_ was what was going to win them Regionals, he was pretty sure, and that had been all Kurt. So he just wanted to make sure that his best friend got to stay in the glory.

They held hands for all of _Raise Your Glass_. But during chunks of it, he noticed that Kurt was using his free hand to point toward his friends in New Directions. It gave Blaine a very uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kind of like. . .well, kind of like being drunk, really. Not pleasant at all.

And then the song was over. The lights were up on everyone, and all of the Warblers were appropriately bowing and waving to the audience. Blaine waved with them, he bowed with them. Beside him, Kurt was doing the same, his face still split in that wide grin. Blaine didn't think he'd ever seen him looking happier.

What came next was instinctive. Blaine reached out and pulled Kurt toward him in the warmest hug he'd ever given (or received, for that matter). Kurt's body was frozen for a moment, with no response, just long enough for Blaine to begin panicking. It wasn't too much, was it? They'd agreed to be friends. Was it too much? Was it

But then Kurt was hugging him back, and he had hairsprayed hair in his face, and Kurtsmell in his nose, and he wasn't quite certain where one body ended and the other began.

Yeah, it was pretty awesome.

Until Kurt whispered into his ear,

"I'm thinking about transferring back."

Wes cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Thad grabbed his arm, and all the Warblers were leaving the stage, so Blaine really didn't have the time to digest that comment. In all honesty, he wasn't really sure he wanted. So instead, he grabbed Kurt's arm by the sleeve of his jacket, and towed him after the other Warblers. They took two rows of seats, directly behind New Directions, who promptly turned to congratulate all of them. Santana did so by making out with Wes, who turned as red as his tie. The blonde boy sitting next to her seemed entirely nonplussed. Rachel and Mercedes, meanwhile, were whispering furiously in Kurt's ear, while shooting sideways glances at Blaine, who for his part, tried not to look in their direction. He could feel his neck warming up.

Finn turned to him. "So. . .uh. . .Kurt's not mad at me anymore, is he?"

"I don't think so," Blaine whispered back.

"Cool," Finn said, turning around in his seat. But a minute later he turned back. "You're not going to transfer to McKinley, are you?"

Blaine was, to put it mildly, confused. He shook his head. "No. . .why would I do that?"

"Cool," Finn said, ignoring Blaine's question. "I mean, you seem like a decent guy, but knowing Mr. Schue, you'd get all the male leads immediately."

By this time Aural Intensity had gotten ready. A young girl walked out, dressed in red spandex.

"_Jesus is a friend of mine_"

"Hell to the no," Mercedes breathed out. Kurt reached over and grabbed Blaine's hand.

"Are they. . ."

A boy came out to join the red spandex girl.

"_Jesus is a friend of mine_,"

"Oh. Holy. Jesus. Mary. And. Joseph," Thad breathed out between clenched teeth. The boy and girl began grinding. While singing. About Jesus.

Wes leaned over to look at the boys, a maniacal glint in his eye. "We totally have this in the bag!" he crowed. New Directions shushed him.

Blaine couldn't take his eyes away from the stage. It was a trainwreck. It was insane. It was captivating. As the glee club sang about Jesus touching him inside, they grabbed their crotches. When they sang about zapping, he was pretty sure that some of them started having sex. He would have paid a lot of money to see the look on Sister Mary Constance's face just then. Kurt, meanwhile, was giggling insanely into his shoulder, while the rest of the Warblers looked like they'd just been given a present on Christmas day. Or. . .lots of presents.

All too soon Aural Intensity's performance was over, and they were all let loose to mingle in the lobby before the judges announced the winners. This was Blaine's least favorite part. He'd been well-brought up, so schmoozing was second nature to him, but Regionals wasn't schmoozing. It was all students and parents, and grandparents and. . .and then there was him.

Wes, David, and the other Warblers immediately broke off to see their parents. New Directions did the same. So Blaine just put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, a slight smile on his face. It was just a few awkward moments that he had to endure. Then families would break apart, and random people he'd never met in his life (and would never meet again, most likely) would come up to compliment him and congratulate him. It was just a matter of making it through those first awkward moments.

Except then a heavy hand was thumping him on the back, and he was almost pitching forward. He turnd around, his mouth open and his eyes wide. Burt Hummel was standing there, a slight smile on his face.

"Hey there, kiddo," he said. "Good job up there."

"Um. . .thank you very much, sir." He glanced around for a moment. Mr. Hummel still terrified him, and he was pretty sure that Kurt's dad hated him, especially after their last interaction. But Kurt was currently being hugged by his stepmom, while Finn pulled awkward faces beside him. Mr. Hummel placed his hand on Blaine's shoulder. Blaine tried not to wince.

"What you kids did up there. . .that was really something," Burt said. "That was brave, kid."  
"Thanks, Mr. Hummel," Blaine said. He tried to plaster on a charming smile. It probably came out looking like a scared grimace. "I should probably, uh, go see how the other guys are doing. . ."

Mr. Hummel just tightened his grip on Blaine's shoulder. "You're a good kid, Blaine," he said. "Your dad should be proud of you."

Blaine swallowed, thickly. Before he had a chance to respond, Kurt had bounded over to them, that broad smile still on his face. "Hey Dad, Blaine. What are you doing?"

"Just talking," Mr. Hummel said. He finally took his hand off Blaine's shoulder (thank _God_), and put it on his son's instead. "You were. . .you were really great up there, kiddo."

"Thanks, Dad," Kurt said. "I'm just so glad you could all make it."

The loudspeaker crackled, announcing that the judges were finished.

"Well, this is it," Blaine said, shooting a smile toward Kurt. New Directions hurried by them, the boys all wearing stressed smiles, while the girls were virtually bouncing. Rachel shot them a double thumbs up.

All three numbers trudged up to the stage, and took their places. Rod Remmingon held up an envelope. Blaine took a deep breath.

"And the winners are. . ."

**A/N: Only two chappies to go! And, apologies around, the next one is also insane amounts of fluff, but the final one won't give you diabetes, I promise!**


	5. Blackbird

**A/N: Thanks for all the favorites and alerts! Clearly, if you want your stuff being read, write Klaine. My top 3 alerted stories – Klaine. 3 of the top 5 favorited – Klaine. Take note, Ryan Murphy, take note!**

Kurt opened his eyes when he felt the car shudder to a stop. When he turned to the side, he saw Blaine staring at him, something akin to expectation in his eyes. "Well?" the other boy asked. Kurt managed a small, sad smile.

"You don't have to come with," he said. "I know this is kind of weird. I mean, normal people don't. . .don't do this."

Blaine ducked his head a little and chuckled, before opening his door and stepping out. Kurt took a deep breath before following.

The last day and a half seemed like a blur. Losing at Regionals hadn't been a shock, not to Kurt, at least. He'd seen the looks on the judges faces even if nobody else had. Rod Remmington had been blank-faced, and both women had looked scandalous. So, to his mind, there was no surprise that New Directions had walked off with the trophies. It wasn't the loss that had him all turned around. . .it was the celebratory dinner afterwards that he'd been invited to. It was the way Blaine had come with him, and held his hand on the drive over. It was the way his father had given him a brief hug. It was the way Blaine had hugged him – hanging on for dear life, almost. It was the way coming home, he'd still had to deal with a sad, little body. It was hearing that Karofsky was, if not reformed, better. It was finding the collage of "courage", only half-buried on his desk. It was not-so-sexy faces, and a receipt from the Gap, and a half-finished coffee cup.

He'd told the Warblers about Pavarotti's death that morning. He'd expected outrage. Instead, everyone had just seemed tired. Wes had lowered his head to the desk and exhaled slowly.

"That explains everything," he'd whispered. David had consolingly pat his back. Thad had just sent Nick out to buy a new canary.

"See," Blaine had said, nudging him in the side. "Happens all the time."

But Kurt had still felt guilty, so he'd wrapped the bird up in his favorite pair of Kenneth Cole's, and gone to the florist to get a rose. And somewhere en route he'd gotten a text from Blaine, who offered to come along and. . .

And now here they were. Kurt had to take another steadying breath as the cold wind hit his face. He liked cemeteries. . .he liked their tranquility, and peacefulness. He liked that he could sometimes sense his mom, the same way he could still smell her in the dresser, or remember her singing him to sleep. He clutched the box a little closer to his chest.

"Are you ready?" Blaine asked. He had that expression on his face, the one that Kurt could never quite read. So he just nodded his head. Blaine walked to the back of the SUV, and pulled out his guitar.

"What's that for?" Kurt asked, curious. He'd seen the instrument before, in Blaine's room, but he'd never actually heard the other boy play. Wes was insistent that the Warblers always remain strictly acapella – he wouldn't even allow a piano to be used to teach melody.

"Nothing," Blaine said. Kurt sniffed. As if that explained _anything_. He glanced sideways at his friend. Did Blaine even remember what he'd mentioned at Regionals? Did he even care?

Maybe he was just waiting for Kurt's final decision. Kurt bit his lower lip. Should he say something? He'd decided that morning, after Finn had awkwardly brought him a glass of warm milk. He'd looked at it suspiciously, and asked what it was for. Finn had just shrugged, and ambled out.

So, yeah, he was going back to McKinley. Maybe it was a stupid decision. He liked Dalton, and there were better academics, but. . .but he couldn't be a bird in a cage, and he couldn't just eat glitter. Kurt let out a breath. Yeah. . .that extended metaphor kind of failed.

Blaine led the way quickly into a little side section of the cemetery. Kurt lifted an eyebrow. He'd never even noticed this section before. He stopped walking and stared up at the sign, trying to decipher the old calligraphy.

"Pet Cemetery," Blaine explained. "I figured it was a little more appropriate."

Kurt just shrugged. He was perfectly fine burying Pavarotti in the human portion, but he could see why maybe that wasn't the best decision. Instead, he followed Blaine as the other boy made a winding way through the cemetery, stopping finally beside an old oak. He put the guitar case on the ground, and knelt beside it.

"This is where we buried my dog," Blaine explained. His hands unclasped the case, and he slowly pulled out his guitar. "His name was Hairy. My little sister got to name him, even though he was supposed to be my dog. He got run over by an ice cream truck when I was seven."

"Sorry?" Kurt wasn't really sure how he was supposed to respond to that. Blaine just stood up and shrugged.

"It wasn't really a big deal," he said. "Burying him is actually kind of a nice memory. One of the last ones before my father. . ." he visibly shook himself, and strummed a careful stroke on his guitar. "Okay," he said. "I think we're ready."

"Ready for what?" Kurt asked. "We haven't even dug a hole."

And with that, he set the box to the side, and knelt down. There was a little stone embedded with the ground, with the word "Hairy" written on it, and two little sets of handprints – Blaine's and his sisters, presumably. Kurt scooped up a handful of dirt.

"Whoa, what are you doing?" Blaine put his guitar to the side and knelt down next to Kurt. "Are you seriously getting dirty?"

"You have a better idea?" Kurt asked. Blaine didn't answer, so Kurt kept scooping at the dirt. It was barely spring in Ohio, and the ground was still half-frozen. After a moment or two, Blaine's hands joined his own.

"You don't have to," Kurt said softly. "You didn't kill him."

"Didn't I?" Blaine asked.

Occassionally their hands brushed against each other, as they tugged at small rock and twigs. It was times like these that Kurt couldn't decide whether he was blessed to have Blaine as a friend, or cursed to be _only_ a friend. Not that it mattered, much. Blaine was going to be furious when he transferred, would probably never want to see him again.

It took a good fifteen minutes before they'd dug a big enough ditch to fit the shoebox. It was Blaine who stopped digging, tugging Kurt back from the hole, and going to grab the poor, dead warbler. Kurt was ready to start filling it in, but Blaine just shook his head.

"You can't just cover up his whole life like that," Blaine said simply. "You have to say good-bye, first."

Kurt just lifted one eyebrow. He'd thought that he was overreacting a bit, wanting to bury the bird, but Blaine was taking it to new heights. The other boy just shrugged, however, a little awkwardly, and picked up his guitar. "You're a singer. . .sing good-bye to him."

And then his fingers were pulling soft notes out of the guitar, and Kurt could feel tears welling up behind his eyes again. Pavarotti had been a good bird, after all. Exactly what he'd needed at the time, and. . .

He recognized the song that Blaine was saying, and a small smile traced its way across his face. Why did the Beatles always serve him so well in these pivotal moments? He opened his mouth to sing.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_

_ Take these broken wings and learn to fly_

_ All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arrive"_

As he started the second verse, Blaine began chiming in, light harmonizing tones, just under his own voice.

"_Blackbird singing in the dead of night,_

_ Take these sunken eyes and learn to see_"

But then there were more voices, more notes than even the eternally talented Blaine could make on his own. Turning, surprised, he saw the other Warblers walking in, single-file. Each held a single rose in his hands (Wes also held his gavel.)

David inclined his head toward Kurt, before dropping his rose into the makeshift grave, while Thad gave him a quick shoulder squeeze. Nick was fighting back tears, while Luke was unabashedly bawling into Jeff's sleeve. Kurt just kept singing, though his vision had gone hazy, and it was like he was looking at his friends from underwater, or beyond a veil.

"_Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly,_

_ Into the light of this dark black night_".

The song was over, the last strains of guitar fading into the night. Jeff and Nick took turns covering over the grave. Silently, Blaine knelt to put his guitar back in its case.

"What are you. . ." Kurt's voice came out higher and more trembly than he'd like. He coughed delicately, and tried again. "What are you guys doing here?"

"All for one, and one for all," Wes said solemnly.

"We Warblers believe firmly in supporting each member of our coterie," Thad said. David, meanwhile, just smiled a little sadly.

"Also, Blaine kind of implied that we weren't just saying good-bye to Pavarotti."

At the sound of that name, Kurt turned to look at his friend. Blaine was standing again by this time, guitar case slung firmly over his back. He was staring at the ground, scuffling his feet a little, not at all the confident young man that Kurt was used to.

"Is it true?" Wes asked. "Are you really going back?"

Kurt took a deep breath, and kept staring at Blaine. Why wouldn't he look up? "Yeah," he said finally. "I think I have to." He closed his eyes, then, tensed up. Because surely this was the time when they'd begin yelling at him, about how they felt betrayed, or how unfair it was, or how he'd Jesse St. James'd them all.

But no yells came. Instead, he just felt a gentle punch to his shoulder. He opened one eye, surprised to see Nick's face frighteningly close to his own. "I'll miss you, man," he said.

"You made us better," Wes said simply. "You made us want to _be_ better."

"Oh, _God_," Luke wailed. "We'll never do RENT now!"

One by one, each Warbler said good-bye, some with a handshake, some with a hug, but all with the sentiments. They were going to miss him. They were sincerely going to miss him. Kurt felt a deep pit open in his stomach. He might be getting back his whole family by returning to New Directions, but he'd be losing the closest brothers that he'd ever had.

Finally it was just he and Blaine. "Well," Kurt said, trying to make his voice chipper and bright. "Guess we'd better head back, right?"

"Right," Blaine said. "You probably have to clean your locker out and stuff."

Kurt chuckled a little. "Blaine, transfers aren't immediate. I'll still be at Dalton for the rest of the week."

Blaine smiled at him, that same familiar, blinding grin that he was used to. The hole in Kurt's stomach opened a little wider. After all, Blaine was the only Warbler who hadn't expressed his sorrow at Kurt leaving. Still, he was opening the door to the car, and standing there with that adorable expression on his face. Kurt hesitated for a moment before climbing in.

"Hey, Blaine. . ."

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"We'll still be friends, right? Even after I'm back at McKinley?"

Blaine just stared at him for a long moment, that stupid look that Kurt could never interpret firmly on his face. Then, so suddenly that it caused Kurt to actually utter a small "eek!" he leaned forward and engulfed the taller boy in another tight hug.

"Of course, stupid," Blaine whispered, his breath hot against Kurt's neck. "You mean way too much to me to let a change in schools get in the way." He pulled back a little, and stared firmly into Kurt's eyes. "You're my best friend, Kurt, whether you're at Dalton or McKinley."

Kurt ignored the dying butterflies in his stomach, and managed a small smile. "Okay, good," he said. "Just checking."

Blaine drew back, shifting the guitar still strapped across his shoulders.

"Now come on, it's way too cold to just be sitting around here talking, when we could be inside. Getting coffee."

"Addict," Kurt giggled, climbing into the car. Still, he felt a thousand times better. Maybe the reason Blaine hadn't said good-bye was because there wasn't going to be a good-bye. . .not for them, at least. They'd been friends before, when Kurt had been at McKinley, and they'd be friends when he returned.

Kurt felt a little bad about smiling in a cemetery, but he couldn't quite stop as Blaine put the car in reverse and began backing up.

**A/N: D'aww. Yay, Warblers. Yay Dapper Blaine. Yay, guitar! Though I doubt there will be a guitar in the episode. . .I can still pray. Mmm. . .Darren Criss. . .**

** Last chapter will be out tomorrow afternoon, so that all may read my glorious predictions for the episode. None of which will pan out. Le sigh. . .and I'm keeping my expectations low. . .**

** Reviews are love!**


	6. Misery

**A/N: Just in time for the episode that will crush all my Klaine-y dreams. Yay!**

Blaine was extremely displeased when he heard about Wes' emergency meeting. It was Friday, Kurt's last day at Dalton, and he'd kind of been hoping to take the other boy out for one last coffee outing. Instead, he was being dragged along to a meeting for God knew what reason. It wasn't like they had to prepare for Nationals, and the Parents' Showcase wasn't for a month and a half. So it was with a frown on his face that he walked into the choir room.

"Okay, Wes, what exactly is this about?" he asked. It wasn't until the words had left his mouth that he realized that this was obviously not a traditional Warblers meeting. Only Thad sat behind the council desk. Everyone else was sprawled across couches, staring straight at him. As though they'd been expecting him.

Except for one face that was conspicuously missing. Blaine knew that Kurt couldn't remain in the Warblers after transferring. . .that was obvious. But he'd assumed that his friends weren't such assholes that they would start shutting the kid out before he'd even left. Before he could argue the point, however, Wes began to answer.

"As you are no doubt aware, today is Kurt's last day at Dalton."

"I know," Blaine said irritably.

"Really?" David asked, leaning forward. "Because you've kind of been ignoring him all week."

"It's hurt his feelings," Nick said.

"I haven't been ignoring him, I've just been busy," Blaine said, reasonably. And he had been. There'd been a pile of work that he'd put off until Regionals was over, and then there had been his tutoring duties, and he'd had to play the guitar and. . .okay, maybe he'd been avoiding the other boy.

"We just wanted to make sure that you're okay with him leaving," Wes said. "We can't very well have our soloist dissolving into a puddle of emotional goo. We're an alternate for Nationals, after all, and we have to stay sharp."

Blaine frowned. "Why would I dissolve into a puddle of emotional goo?"

Wes and David sighed and looked at each other. Blaine's frown deepened. He knew that sigh-and-glance. It was the same sigh-and-glance they exchanged whenever Luke's hideous pink suspenders were seen, or Nick was being unduly earnest, or Jeff attempted a backflip, inevitably injuring himself. That sigh-and-glance had never been directed toward him, however. He didn't much care for it.

"Listen, Blaine. . .you always give 110%." Wes was speaking slowly, carefully, as though searching for each word.

"And that's great," David said earnestly. "Really, it's why we always give you all the solos. We know you'll perform 110%."

Blaine was pretty sure thunderclouds were beginning to form over his head. Was he really stuck listening to this drivel, when he could be sucking down the sweet, sweet essence of caffeine? "I thought you gave me all the solos because I have the best voice."

Wes just cleared his throat, and continued with what was _clearly_ a rehearsed speech. "Your enthusiasm is boundless, Blaine. You give 110% on your schoolwork. . ."

"It's why you have the best GPA in our class," David butt in helpfully, and Blaine just snorted, because _obviously_.

"You give 110% when it comes to Dalton pride," Wes said. David handed him a sheet of paper, and he glanced over it quickly.

"Right, cliffnotes version," Wes said, nodding smartly. "Remember serenading that guy at the Gap? 110%."

"And your bisexuality crisis?" David asked. All of the Warblers nodded knowingly. Blaine bit his lip. Had he really broadcast that so loudly? It had only lasted about 48 hours. . .well, that wasn't very dapper of him, was it. "In two days you went through all the steps of a heterosexual romance. Not well, but you did them. 110%."

"I don't really see where you're going with this. . ." Blaine sighed. Wes held up a finger.

"And then there's Kurt. You decided to be his mentor, and his friend, and you threw yourself into that 110%."

"Okay, so what's wrong with that?" Blaine huffed. "What's wrong with doing my best? What's wrong with being a good friend?"

"Usually, nothing," David said. "Except. . .what if you've been focusing so hard on being Kurt's friend and mentor, that you never even realized that's not what you really want?"

Blaine considered that. On the one hand, his friends definitely had a point. He obviously shouldn't have tried so hard to be perfect for Kurt. . .it had nearly cost him that friendship. Twice. He still didn't see why the entire Warblers had to have an emergency meeting to tell him that, however. He glanced at his watch. Kurt was probably already home by now. He sighed.

"What's your point, David?"

"Our point," Wes said fiercely, banging his gavel twice (for emphasis, Blaine supposed, though who really knew). "Is that Kurt is gone. You won't see him between classes anymore. You won't see him at lunch. You won't be able to make plans with him at the end of the day, because he _won't be here_."

"You won't get coffee with him every day, no matter what you say," David said, steamrolling on before Blaine could even object. "Because he'll be at McKinley, and he'll be making plans with them. You won't get invited to all the parties, because you won't _be_ there when Kurt gets invited. You think it's going to be the same, but it won't be."

Blaine sat down heavily into the couch, and put his head into his hands. He considered what his friends were saying. He hadn't really thought about it before. He'd just assumed that Kurt would be there because. . .because. . .he couldn't really come up with a good reason. Because Kurt had always been there. Except that, six months ago, he hadn't been. Six months ago he hadn't even known that the Hummels existed. Whoah. . .Blaine felt like his mind had blown. How had he even had a life before Kurt? What had he _done_?

"Oh my God," he muttered. "What do I do? Kurt's my best friend. No offense, Wes, David."

"None taken," the boys said in unison. Thad cleared his throat ostentatiously.

"Excuse me, Blaine, my dapper gentleman. What about me? Do I not qualify as one of your dear, best friends?"

"No, Thad," Blaine said, straight-faced. "I don't even like you."

"Well, I never!"

The other Warblers laughed. Blaine just moaned.

"Luckily for you, we've thought this problem out for you," Wes said. "After all, we can't have the entire group going into a deep depression, a la The Incident of 1986. . ."

"Also, we're your friends," David interjected. "And we're always here for you."

"Thanks, guys," Blaine said, looking up. He already felt better. "So what's the plan?"

"Doing the two things you are great at," Wes said simply. "Doing everything 110%, and putting your emotions into song." He thrust a sheet of paper into Blaine's hands. "You're going to sing this to Kurt."

"Misery?" Blaine raised one eyebrow, as he scanned through the lyrics. "Why on earth did you choose this song?"

Wes pulled the sigh-and-glance with David again. "Because, Blaine, even though you might be an oblivious idiot, we aren't."

* * *

Kurt wasn't ashamed to admit, he was a little disappointed that Blaine hadn't texted him all day. He'd barely seen the other boy all week, but he'd been hoping for one last coffee not-date before he left the hallowed halls of Dalton forever. He hadn't even spied the other boy, though, so, rather than be alone, he'd called up Mercedes, and arranged to meet her at the Lima Bean.

It didn't feel the same, standing next to her in line, and it definitely didn't feel the same when they got to the register, and she looked to him expectantly, waiting for him to order.

_You know my coffee order_?

He'd better get used to it, he supposed. After all, he'd made his decision, fully aware that there would be consequences. Deal with it, Kurt, he demanded fiercely. He'd dealt with heartache before. It was all just teenage angst, anyway. He deserved better.

_I really. . .really care about you, Kurt_.

Mercedes was busy blathering on about Mr. Schue's latest assignment, and how Rachel was either going to be over the moon or beside herself over his transfer, and how the boys would form a perimeter, and how she'd sung _Hell to the No_ and gotten tots reinstated and. . .

Kurt's phone rang, and he glanced at it. It was a message from Wes, demanding to know why he wasn't present at the emergency Warblers meeting. Kurt frowned. He didn't remember hearing about a meeting. Besides, why would the Warblers be so pissed that he was missing it, when he was as good as transferred, anyway?

But then he received another two texts in quick succession.

David: We understand that you're leaving, but for the next 7 hours you're still a Dalton student, and we'd appreciate your presence.

Nick: you better get here, man. Wes' about to kill someone wit da GoD!"

"God?" Mercedes asked, reading over his shoulder. "Wes wants to kill someone with God?"

"Gavel of Doom," Kurt said absently. "Listen, 'Cedes, I'm really sorry, but I'd better go. I promise, it's the last time I'll blow you off for the Warblers."

Mercedes just cocked an eyebrow and smirked. "I doubt _that_, white boy. Go, have fun. You're all mine, starting Monday!"

Kurt spent the entire drive to Dalton trying to figure out what could be going on. Nothing was fitting in right. Still it would be nice to see all of his friends one more time, together. It had been kind of anticlimactic, packing up with locker with just Jeff around to help.

By the time he reached the Dalton choir room, his heart was hammering in his chest. Opening the door did nothing to assuage his fears, as he saw all of the Warblers lined up, their hands behind their backs. He tried to find Wes' face, to see just how big of trouble he was in. However, before he could find the councilmember, another face filled his face.

"Hey, Kurt," Blaine said, smiling as brilliantly as ever. "We. . .um. . .that is, I. . ."

"Just sing it!" Jeff yelled, hands cupped around his mouth. The other Warblers laughed.

"Right then," Blaine said, sucking in a deep breath.

"_Oh yeah, oh yeah,_

_ So scared of breaking it that you won't let it bend_

_ And I wrote two hundred letters I will never send_"

Kurt frowned. What on earth was Blaine going on about? The other boy just shrugged, as if to say "I don't know either, dude, just go with it."

"_Sometimes these cuts are so much deeper than they seem_

_ You'd rather cover up, I'd rather let them be_

_ So let me be, and I'll set you free_"

Oh. . .Kurt bit his bottom lip. Blaine, too, seemed to suddenly understand the lyrics, as he frowned and glanced back at Wes. Which was ridiculous, right? Because they'd obviously practiced it before. Though. . .then again, he'd seen Blaine in practice before. The other boy was fully capable of singing lyrics without ever once thinking about the lyrics. So maybe. . .but then. . .

"_I am in misery_

_ There ain't nobody who can comfort me, oh yeah_

_ Why won't you answer me?_

_ The silence is slowly killing me, oh yeah_"

Kurt wanted to interrupt so badly. He wanted to grab Blaine's hand, and reassure the other boy that he would never ignore a message, or a text. They were only a few miles away. Oh my God. . .Kurt's hand rose to cover his mouth. This wasn't, like, a weird break-up, was it? Was Blaine saying that they should just end their friendship, right then and there? Go cold turkey?Blaine, meanwhile, was getting into the song, pointing and doing his awkward hip-shuffle.

"_Girl you really got me bad,_

_ You really got me bad_

_ Now I'm gonna get you back_

_ I'm gonna get you back_"

Blaine was standing directly in front of him at this point. He'd stopped the hip shuffle, and was making eye contact. Kurt was certain that his face must be bright fuschia by this point, which would totally contrast with the red in the Dalton tie. And really, he looked much better in cool colors, so the harsh navy and red of the Dalton uniform never suited his complexion anyway and. . .oh God, what was Blaine singing now?

"_Your salty skin and how it mixes in with mine_

_ The way it feels to be completely intertwined_"

Blaine, something in his dark eyes sparking, suddenly reached forward and grabbed Kurt's hands.

_"Not that I didn't care, it's that I didn't know_

_ It's not what I didn't feel, it's what I didn't show"_

Kurt sucked in a breath.

_Look, Kurt. . .I don't really know what I'm doing. I pretend that I do, and I know how to act it out in song. . ._

But then Blaine released his hands, and was back with the Warblers. Which was fine, really, Kurt assured himself. It allowed his pulse to slow down, and his breath to return to normal. Plus, it meant that he could look at all of his other friends, every single one of whom had their eyes trained on him. They were all singing to him. Every single one. And then Blaine was singing falsetto and. . .well. . .let's just say that Kurt was glad that the Dalton blazers were so long. He coughed and shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.

It felt like forever, and it felt like seconds before they'd gotten to the last verse. All of the Warblers sang it correctly, except Blaine, who took a step forward and sang

"_Boy, you really got me bad_

_ You really got me bad_

_ Now I'm gonna get you back_

_ I'm gonna get you back."_

Kurt wasn't crying, for once, which was a nice change. But even so, he couldn't seem to remember how to formulate words, or how to make his tongue work. Instead, he just opened his arms wide, and was gratified when Nick and Jeff lunged forward to embrace him. In less than a minute, the rest of the Warblers had joined them, clapping Kurt on the back, and whispering good-bye into his ear. He felt like he'd been engulfed in a tornado of boy, which was a very different feel than New Directions, but no worse. Okay, maybe he was crying. Just a little.

And then Blaine was there, Blaine of the perfect hair, and horribly bad advice, and sparkling hazel eyes. Blaine who had just serenaded _him_, and sure, it was with all the rest of the Warblers, but still. Kurt knew he looked like a tomato, and his face was split in two. He wasn't sure he'd ever smiled wider in his life. In less than a week, his old Glee club had written a song about him, and his new Glee club had sung him a love song.

"Hey," Kurt said, and it kind of felt like all the other Warblers had melted away. Maybe they had.

"Hey," Blaine said. Kurt kind of wanted to punch him right then, because he felt like a bundle of nerves and butterflies, and Blaine just looked perfect and composed. Except that then the other boy glanced down, and to the side, which Kurt knew meant that he was terrified.

Point to Kurt.

"You're not going to lose me," Kurt said softly. "Just because I'm going to a new school. We'll still be friends."

"Best friends?" Blaine asked, looking up from beneath those ridiculously thick eyelashes.

_Forgive me, Mercedes_. Kurt smiled, reached forward, and squeezed the other boys hand. "Best friends." Blaine didn't let go, but just gave him a shaky smile.

"And. . .standing coffee dates? Every day?"

Kurt's smile, if possible, grew even wider. Because Blaine really _didn't_ know what he was doing, but based on the Warblers' performance, and based on the looks he'd been getting all week, and based on the way Blaine was still glancing away, and licking his lips, Kurt kind of thought that maybe _he_, Kurt Hummel with all the sexiness of a baby penguin, did.

"I don't know about every day," he said slyly, and oh yes, he definitely caught that brief glimpse of panic in Blaine's eyes and _holy Hell_ was Kurt Hummel playing hard to get? "I do have to spend some time with New Directions." Why yes, ladies and gentlemen, I do believe he is.

"Monday, Wednesday, Friday?" Blaine asked. Kurt pursed his lips.

"I don't know about Friday. . ." he mused. "I mean, my friends at McKinley do throw some awesome parties. . ."

"Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, then?" Blaine asked. Kurt sighed.

"Well. . ."

Then the hazel eyes lit up, and Blaine barked out a sharp laugh. "Kurt Hummel, I do believe that you're teasing me!"

Kurt didn't mind this new, hugging phase that he and Blaine had entered into it. He didn't mind it not one bit, especially since Blaine really did smell fantastic. Maybe, he thought, as Blaine pulled him a little closer, this whole transfer thing was an even better idea than he'd thought.

After all, they did say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. . .

**A/N: And. . .fin. I expected more mushiness, but I kind of love that Kurt totally has the upperhand, and Blaine is putty. Oblivious!Dapper!Blaine is totes my favorite.**

** Reviews are love!**


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